


is it cool that i said all that (is it chill that you're in my head)

by notcaycepollard



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: M/M, Pining, Press Junket, Press Tour, i am extremely back on my bullshit, infinity war press tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 09:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14667930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/pseuds/notcaycepollard
Summary: Are you having fun?one interviewer asks, the kind of stupid gimme it should be second nature to answer by now, and Seb answers before thinking, too honest by half the way he always is when he’s put on the spot like that.“Well, yeah, now we’re together,” he says, like a fucking idiot, and Mackie elbows him, leans right into his space like he’s got a right to. He does, he does have a right to, god,fuck, Seb can’t help how he smiles as soon as Mackie’s paying any attention to him, and then Winston’s making this noise like he for one has twigged to exactly what’s going on, and that’s probably the point at which Seb knows, for sure: yeah, it’s a fucking problem now, alright.





	is it cool that i said all that (is it chill that you're in my head)

Here’s the issue, really, when it gets down to it: Sebastian’s not really sure when this whole thing with Mackie became an actual problem.

He’s always kind of had a thing, a crush, whatever anyone wants to call it. Just the kind of low-key latent simmering attraction that flares up whenever they do press together and eases off again once they’re apart, enough that Seb can brush it off as not a big deal. But now they’re back in each other’s orbit, crammed into interview rooms with microphones and dumb publicity games and Mackie in even higher spirits than usual, all loud wisecracks and louder laugh and cheekbones so beautiful it kind of makes Seb’s chest ache a little.

_Are you having fun?_ one interviewer asks, the kind of stupid gimme it should be second nature to answer by now, and Seb answers before thinking, too honest by half the way he always is when he’s put on the spot like that.

“Well, yeah, now we’re together,” he says, like a fucking idiot, and Mackie elbows him, leans right into his space like he’s got a right to. He does, he does have a right to, god, _fuck_ , Seb can’t help how he smiles as soon as Mackie’s paying any attention to him, and then Winston’s making this noise like he for one has twigged to exactly what’s going on, and that’s probably the point at which Seb knows, for sure: yeah, it’s a fucking problem now, alright.

 

He can’t— god, it’s not like he can just turn it off, or anything that straightforward. He’s had four years of minorly obsessing about Anthony Mackie, it’s not like just _realizing_ he’s visibly doing it is enough to stop, fuck. It’s more embarrassing when he’s attuned to it, when he listens to the words coming out of his own mouth and recognizes that every third sentence is about how cool Mackie is, how funny, how much he wants to do a buddy comedy with him or take walks on the beach or _go to fucking Romania together_ , Jesus, he’s got it bad.

“I’ve got it bad,” he groans to Evans that night, because Evans is extremely empathetic and also the least likely to make fun of him, and Chris just takes a thoughtful pull of beer, looks at him a moment.

“That crush on Mackie?”

“Christ,” Seb mutters. “Does _everybody_ know?”

Chris looks thoughtful for another minute. “I don't think Cumberbatch pays enough attention to you guys to have noticed?” he offers eventually, and Seb groans again, puts his face in his hands. “Sorry, man, I just kind of thought— I sort of assumed you knew everyone knew, you know?”

“Why,” Sebastian asks, hollow, because he's a sucker for punishment at this stage, and Chris just sort of grins behind the mustache.

“Well, I mean, you talk about him all the time.”

“Yeah,” Seb agrees, edgy now. “I've noticed.”

“Also you kind of look at him like he hung the moon,” Chris adds, which is really just adding insult to injury here, and Seb has to go out and drown himself in the hotel pool or something to recover.

 

The only way he can deal with this newly mortifying awareness is never to say anything ever again; he can't control what his face might do, apparently, but at least he can stop himself from blurting out every Anthony Mackie-related thought that pops into his head.

_Good,_ he tells himself, _okay, good job, you pulled that one back from the brink._ It helps that Winston's there to break it up, to add another presence Seb can bounce off; it helps even more, if Seb's being honest, that Winston Duke looks like he was created by the hand of God, six foot five of solid muscle and a gorgeous mouth and even better thighs, and maybe Seb can practice some kind of fucked up crush transference just to get it all out of his system.

“You okay?” Anthony asks him two days later, leaning right into Seb's personal space again like it's not even a thing. “You've been even more reserved than usual. It's weirding me out.”

“I'm not—” Seb says, automatic, and takes a breath, rubs his palm along his jaw. “I'm just tired. Jet lag. Haven't been sleeping so well.”

“I know that feeling,” Mackie agrees. Pats Sebastian’s thigh, leaves his hand resting there like he's allowed. His palm is warm through Seb's jeans; Seb has to swallow down the urge to pull away. He knocks his knee against Mackie's instead, companionable, and Mackie smiles at him, this little smirk in the corner of his mouth that Seb has no idea what to do with.

“What are those,” Winston drawls, “look at your boy's little chicken legs,” and Mackie squeezes Seb's thigh, pats it again before pulling his hand away.

“Yeah, he ain't living for the squats, that's for sure. This kid skips leg day, I'll tell you that.”

“I do not,” Seb sighs, “you call Don, he'll tell you,” but that just makes Winston and Mackie both cackle with gleeful laughter so Seb figures he better let it go while he’s still got at least a little dignity.

“Sebastian’s really into his abs,” Mackie says five minutes later, “that’s his thing,” and it’s on camera, of course it is, so Seb can’t even say something normal like _what the fuck_ , just makes this face that he hopes conveys it accurately. And then of course Mackie’s redirecting it back to his _fucking thighs_ , making cracks about wearing Speedos at the beach and showing off what he’s working with, and all Seb can think to say to try and redirect this away from imagining Anthony Mackie _goddamn mostly naked_ is something dumb about Winston’s thighs, because yeah, he’s never claimed to be smart when it comes to this kind of shit.

 

“Sebastian,” Anthony says once they're done. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Uh,” Seb manages. “Sleeping? Ordering room service pizza? Googling myself and cringing about all the terrible things I’ve said in the last three days?”

“So you've got no plans?” Mackie continues, and it comes out weirdly intense. Seb blinks.

“No, I'm not… why, what are you doing?”

“No plans,” Mackie shrugs. “You mind if I come hang?”

“Missing your trailer, huh? What, they didn’t give you a fancy enough hotel room?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t even have a hot tub,” Anthony says without missing a beat, and Winston looks up from his phone, eloquently rolls his eyes. _Yeah_ , Seb thinks, _I feel you_ , but Mackie seems like he’s waiting for a reply, so he shrugs a little awkwardly, presses his knuckles to Mackie’s shoulder.

“Whatever. Come over, it’ll be fun. We’ll have beers or something. Winston, you in, man?”

“Oh, no,” Winston says, glancing up again and making what feels like unnecessarily deliberate eye contact with Seb. “No, I’ve got, uh. Plans. But you have fun!”

“Yeah, we’ll have fun,” Mackie agrees, and Seb swallows hard, nods along.

 

Seb’s room is a mess, but whatever, it’s nothing Mackie hasn’t seen before. He kicks an abandoned pair of shoes into the corner, grabs a couple of beers from the minibar.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he says to Anthony, who has, in fact, already made himself significantly comfortable, stretching out so he takes up like half the goddamn couch. Seb passes him a beer, sets his own down on the coffee table and yanks off his jacket.

“That thing is fuck-ugly, by the way,” Mackie tells him matter-of-factly. “I’ve been meaning to tell you all day. _Fuck_ -ugly. You should burn it.”

“It’s Hugo Boss, man,” Sebastian says mildly. “The fuck’s your problem?”

“You got a thing for ugly jackets. Seriously, how many different terrible leather jackets does one dude need, Sebastian.”

“They just keep giving them to me,” Seb shrugs. Throws the offending jacket over the back of the nearest armchair, takes a seat next to Mackie and reaches for his beer. “I’ll tell them I’ve got a new stylist, get them to give you a call, you can approve all my event wardrobe shit from now on.”

“You’re too much of a clothes horse for that,” Mackie says, “a show pony, whatever,” and to be honest, he’s kind of got a point, so Seb shrugs again, drinks his beer.

“So what’d you want to do tonight?” he asks after a pause. “Sorry, I really had no plans, it’s gonna be pretty low-key.”

“Fine by me. I just couldn’t face another night in my own goddamn room, you know how it is.”

Yeah, Seb knows how it is. Press junkets and premieres, they’re a ton of fun but they’re also kind of the worst, nothing but the liminal space of hotel room after hotel room until you’ve lost track of which goddamn country you might be in, never mind which city.

“It’s fun, though, right?” he says. “With Winston, I mean. I was kind of— I sort of worried Marvel might pair us off with other people, this time around.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fun,” Mackie says. Pauses like he’s thinking about something, and Seb drinks his beer, gnaws at his bottom lip. He— fuck, he _had_ worried, had gotten all sweatily anxious that they’d keep pairing him with someone like Cumberbatch or Hiddleston, someone around whom Seb’s awkward silences would only get more noticeably awkward and silent, and he can’t be glad enough for Mackie and Winston’s loud energy, all the jokes they let him in on, shit, it’s saved his fucking life these last few days.

“Kind of thought for a hot minute there that you had a thing going for Winston,” Anthony says after a minute, sips his beer and looks at Seb sideways, and Sebastian’s basically just glad he doesn’t have a mouthful because it absolutely would have gone everywhere.

“Nah,” he says instead, casual. Leans back in his seat. “I mean— nothing serious, anyway.”

“Oh, nothing serious? That’s how it is? That’s cold, Sebastian.”

“Come on,” Seb protests. “What’s it to you, huh?”

“Nothing,” Mackie shrugs. “You just got my name in your mouth, is all. Talking about me everywhere, and then, what, you go after Winston just because he’s got those M’Baku muscles?”

_Fuck_ , Seb thinks, caught in it; can only blink a couple of times, open his mouth and close it again. _Fuck_ , it’s too close to the truth; he has no goddamn idea what to say, how to react. And then Mackie laughs, very loud, and slaps Seb’s knee, leans in to fling an arm around his shoulder.

“It’s cool, man, I’m just messing with you. Gotta remind you I’m still your guy, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Seb says, and then maybe he has a _fucking aneurysm_ or something that makes him black out long enough to lose his impulse control, because instead of playing anything cool he just angles his body into the space left by Mackie, tilts his head and presses his mouth against Anthony’s as if kissing him is a _totally fucking normal_ response in this situation.

“Oh,” Mackie says against Seb’s lips, while Sebastian is still frozen in utter mortified shock, “oh, hell yeah, okay,” and brings his hand up to curl his fingers around the nape of Seb’s neck, bites Sebastian’s lower lip just hard enough that it catches Seb even through whatever goddamn fugue state he’s entered. He hears himself gasp, breathy, and Mackie is _still fucking kissing him_ , kissing back as if this is something that could actually happen, and—

“Shit,” Seb says, “shit, I wasn’t supposed to—”

“What, someone told you not to try it with me?” Anthony asks, sounding kind of outraged, and it feels too hard to get into it, to explain why Sebastian’s been telling his own fucking brain that ever since his heart stuttered at Mackie digging his elbow into Seb’s ribs, so Seb just makes this inarticulate noise and leans back into the kiss.

 

It’s— god, it’s so good, this is definitely gonna fuck Sebastian up and leave him a mess when it’s all over but he kind of doesn’t give a shit about that right now, not with Anthony kissing him like he’s been thinking about it, like he’s been sitting in their goddamn press interviews bored out of his fucking mind and idly wondering what’ll reduce Seb to breathless incoherence as fast as possible. Anthony slides his fingers up under the hem of Sebastian’s shirt, and Seb makes an embarrassingly loud noise, because _Christ_ , Anthony’s hand on his bare skin, his fingers skating up over Seb’s ribs until he rubs the pad of his thumb over Seb’s nipple, and that’s got Seb moaning again, even louder. He’s gonna go up in fucking _flames_ at this rate, Jesus, it’s too—

“Yeah?” Mackie asks, voice unfairly even, and does it again, smirking at the sound Seb makes. “That feel good?”

“I,” Seb starts, and loses his train of thought immediately because Mackie flicks his nipple again and then _pinches_ , holy fucking shit, and Sebastian was already kind of hard but that gets his dick so hard so fast his vision goes a little swimmy around the edges. “ _God_ , that—”

“Huh, it’s not as different as I thought it’d be,” Mackie murmurs, and he still sounds so fucking unaffected that Seb’s immediate goal is to, like, suck his brain out through his dick, or something equally impressive, except that then Anthony is kissing Seb’s neck again, grazing his teeth against the pulse-point, and his hand is still up under Seb’s shirt, other hand firm on the nape of Seb’s neck. Seb whimpers, arches his hips up helplessly, and his jeans are tight enough that it kind of hurts.

Anthony pulls back. Glances down at Seb's crotch, raises an eyebrow, traces one fingertip over the bulge; it's barely enough to feel it, and Seb bites his lip, tries desperately to hold back from grabbing Mackie's hand and making him palm over it properly, because if nothing else that's bound to spook a mostly-straight guy fooling around with his co-star just for some Tuesday night fun to pass the time on the press junket.

“Well,” Mackie says, “I guess _that's_ kind of different,” and then he's touching Seb again, tracing two fingers up Seb's inseam, following the line up over his fly, the button of his jeans, running his fingertips lightly underneath the elastic of Seb's Calvins. It's driving Seb out of his fucking mind, all of it, and he closes his eyes for a minute, opens them, tries to catch his breath.

“Are you actually curious, or just trying to kill me?” he gets out eventually, voice rough, “because it kind of seems like this could go either way, man. Gimme some direction here.”

“You want something?” Mackie asks, and then, mother of God, presses the heel of his hand against the swell of Seb's dick, and even through the denim of his jeans his dick fucking pulses hard enough he knows Mackie must have felt it. “Yeah, kinda feels like you want something.”

“We don't have to—” Seb says, embarrassed now, cheeks heating, “I mean, we can just keep making out, or…”

“No, I want to,” Anthony tells him. “I just, I haven't— I mean, with a dude, you know, I haven’t.”

“I have,” Seb says, because it's true, he has, and he feels too stripped-bare to dissemble about it the way he normally might.

“Yeah, I'm getting that,” Mackie laughs. “If I'm being honest with you, though, I've kinda thought about it once or twice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mackie says. Touches his thumb to Seb's lower lip. “Yeah, a couple of times. What can I say, you got a pretty mouth, man.” That makes Sebastian suck Anthony's thumb into his mouth, swirl his tongue over it, absolutely demonstrating what else he can do with his mouth, and Anthony's breath audibly hitches.

“Can I,” Seb asks, “can I blow you?”

“Uh, _yes_ ,” Mackie agrees, emphatic, and pushes two fingers back into Seb's mouth like he's testing it out. Seb takes them up to the knuckle, glances up through his eyelashes at Anthony, and it seems pretty fucking effective given the way Anthony moans low in the back of his throat. “Wait,” Mackie says, as Seb reaches for his belt, “you got a bed, man, we’re not doing this on the couch.”

“Yeah, that— okay,” Seb says, “yeah,” and it’s not until they’re both stripped down to their underwear, falling back into Seb’s unmade hotel bed, that he realizes, _Christ_ , he’s got Anthony Mackie _in bed with him_ , they’re about to— they’re about to fuck, _fuck_ , and he’s really not sure how he got from point A to point B here but it’s a _real thing that is actually happening to him._

 

When he gets Mackie's dick into his mouth, Anthony makes this satisfyingly loud noise, moaning low and hot like it's really got him going. Seb pulls off, licks a stripe up the underside and mouths over the head, swirling his tongue into the slit and tasting the salt of precome.

“Fuck,” Anthony swears, gasping, “would you just—” and Seb smirks at him before swallowing him back down as deep as he can go. God, it's so- he could do this for hours, he thinks, could stay on his knees and let Anthony fuck his mouth, come all over his face, could let Anthony take him apart just like that, all it'd take is his hand on the nape of Seb's neck and his dick in Seb's throat.

“God,” Anthony says, breathless. “I wish you still had longer hair, man, I wanna pull it so bad you got no idea,” and just the thought of it makes Seb shiver, makes his dick pulse and throb like he might come right here in his Calvins like a goddamn teenager.

“Want me to grow it out?” he asks, voice husky, and Mackie throws his head back in laughter.

“Nah. Maybe a little. Just enough to tug, right?” And then he's settling his hand onto the back of Seb's head anyway, fingers scraping against Seb's scalp, the nape of his neck, and pushes Sebastian’s head down firmly enough Seb's whole body goes hot.

“That's good,” he says, daring, “I— that's good, when you get bossy.”

“Yeah? You like that?” Anthony asks, rubbing his thumb over the tender skin behind Seb's ear, and Seb shivers again.

“I really do,” he admits, “I really, really do.”

“Come on, then, baby,” Mackie tells him, “suck it, show me what that mouth is good for,” and Seb has to bite his lip briefly, very hard, because Jesus _Christ_ it's like Anthony has a direct line to what's gonna make Seb blow before they've even really got started.

 

Anthony comes with a shout stifled halfway through like he’s only just remembered they’re in a hotel with other people probably right next door. Seb swallows around him, feels a trickle of come escape at the corner of his mouth, and Mackie grabs at the back of his neck, pulls him off like it’s too much.

“Fuck,” he says, closing his eyes, putting his hand over his face, “ _fuck_ , you really did show me what that mouth does, huh. I think you broke me.”

“You don’t look that broken to me,” Seb shrugs. Reaches for the bottle of water on the nightstand; it tastes kinda stale but he takes a couple of mouthfuls anyway, rinses his mouth and swallows. Traces his tongue over his teeth, his lower lip; he can still taste Mackie in his mouth, and it’s so hot it’s driving him a little crazy. Mackie lies still for another minute, arm flung out, sheen of sweat glistening on his bare chest. “God,” Seb says without thinking, “you’re so fucking pretty, you know that?”

Mackie pulls his hand away from his face. “Yeah?” he asks, glancing over at Seb. Smirks a little. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Hot,” Seb says, feeling himself flush. “I— you’re hot, man.”

“Nah, you think I’m _pretty_ ,” Mackie says. Sits up, leans in for a kiss, and Seb can’t help it, moans a little when Mackie nips at his mouth. “Oh,” Mackie murmurs, stroking his hand down over Seb’s hip, tugging his underwear down and wrapping his fingers around Seb’s dick, squeezing a little. “God, yeah, let me return the favor?”

“You don't have to,” Seb says, “I mean, I can—”

“Sebastian,” Anthony says, quietly intense. “I only said I hadn't done this before, not that I don't want to, okay?”

“Yeah,” Seb says, “yeah, that— yeah, okay,” and has to remind himself that _this is his goddamn fucking real life_ as Mackie grabs his hips and flips them over so he’s kneeling over Seb, kissing his way slowly down Seb’s chest and stomach, hooking his fingers into the elastic of Seb’s underwear and pulling them off.

Seb’s dick springs free and smacks Mackie in the jaw.

“Oh,” Seb says, burning with embarrassment, “Jesus _Christ_ , I’m so sorry. I’d tell you that never happens, but…”

“I’m not gonna get scared off that quick,” Mackie tells him, and then he’s running his tongue over the head of Seb’s dick, sucking it slowly into his mouth, and yeah, okay, he might never have done this before, might be operating more on enthusiasm and intuition than experience, but _Sebastian’s dick_ is in _Anthony Mackie’s mouth_ and it’s all Seb can do not to come right then and there, to hold himself back from thrusting desperately up into the wet heat. God, it’s— he might, he might fucking die, it’s maybe not the best blowjob he’s ever had but it is also _absolutely_ the best blowjob he’s ever had.

 

He comes embarrassingly quickly, even though he tries not to; manages at least to warn Mackie, since maybe Mackie’s not into swallowing just yet. That feels like something someone might need to work up to, perhaps. Anthony pulls off, jerks Seb hard and fast and slick, and it only takes a few strokes before Seb comes all over his abs, gasping for breath.

“Good?” Mackie asks, and Sebastian can only nod weakly.

“C’mere,” he says after a minute. Mackie doesn’t need him to say any more, apparently, just stretches out next to him, kisses him slow and sweet. Trails his fingertips through the come on Seb’s belly, licks it off one finger almost experimentally.

“It’s, uh. Kind of an acquired taste,” Seb tells him, and Mackie shrugs.

“Doesn’t bother me. God, we made a mess of you, huh?”

“Yeah, I— fuck, gimme something to wipe it off with, would you?”

Mackie casts around for something, comes up with Seb’s discarded t-shirt; it’s Dior, but Seb doesn’t really give a shit at this stage, wipes himself off and drops it on the floor. Stretches out, lets himself enjoy lying there with Anthony naked in his bed even though they’re both sweaty and smelling of sex. Shit, okay, _because_ they’re both naked and smelling of sex, it’s a pretty great time to be alive.

“This was a better use of my evening than I’d planned,” he says, still kind of too-honest, and Mackie smiles at him, kisses the corner of his mouth. “We should order room service or something, though. I’m fucking starving.”

“Yeah,” Mackie agrees, sounding lazy and sated. “Pizza. Mozzarella sticks.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Seb says, fervent, and smiles at the way Mackie laughs warm and loud. “I’ll get my phone in a minute, we can order in.”

Neither of them move. It’s too _nice_ , Seb thinks, it’s just— it’s really nice, is all.

“So how do you want this to go, Sebastian?” Anthony asks, after a couple of minutes. Touches his fingertips to the inside of Seb's wrist. “You want to keep it casual, or what? I can go, if you wanna keep things chill, I know how it is.”

Seb swallows. “Stay,” he says. “If you want to.”

Anthony looks at him for a minute. “I want to,” he says.

“Yeah?” Seb asks, because apparently he’s just gonna continue second-guessing everything, forever, and Mackie rolls his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. Sets his palm on Seb’s chest, fingers splayed. “I’m your guy, right?”

“Yeah,” Seb agrees, breathless again, “yeah, you— yeah, that’s. Yes. Okay. Cool.” And the thing is, maybe everyone can see it—maybe it’s all over his face, in every syllable of how he talks about Mackie too often, too enthusiastically, too _much_ —but that’s the truth of it: Mackie’s his guy, and it’s not like Seb’s ever learned to back off when he’s fallen for someone this bad.

**Author's Note:**

> hello i am [on tumblr](http://notcaycepollard.tumblr.com/) and if you think all those Winston/Seb/Mackie videos didn't extremely do it for me then uh you don't know me at all


End file.
